It Takes More Than Just Good Books
by Infinity Limited
Summary: Hermione is determined to be sure Voldemort is never coming back.  But for that, she needs a book, owned by one Draco Malfoy.  When the unlikely duo teams up in a common cause, what will be left of the relationships they had before?
1. Chapter 1  In Need of a Book

Folks: For those of you who have this on alerts, sorry for the double/triple posting. I have a beta, (The Infinity of Infinity Limited) now, and she made some great improvements for chapters 1 and 2, so I uploaded the revisions. No real plot element changes – you don't need to re-read anything.

Chapter 3 is all new! (Infinity did a great job!)

Hermione sat in her office at the ministry, a muggle mechanical pencil shoved behind one ear. Her office was surrounded on three sides by overstuffed bookshelves, with unkempt piles of additional books perched precariously on every available surface.

She had adapted to wizarding ways easily, but her intellectual curiosity had not been tempered in the years after the fall of Voldemort, and many subjects caught her interest. Although she was used to using parchment in her magical job, for her own intellectual pursuits, she used muggle stationary items. She no longer feared the rejection of wizard kind; if they thought less of her, she could care less about their ignorance.

What currently had the wild-haired witch in a conundrum was Harry's scar. It hadn't so much as prickled, true; however, she knew about it being a horcrux. Was it possible that the reason it hadn't so much as prickled was that it simply hadn't been activated? And if activated, wouldn't all her best friend held dear be put at risk? She sighed, worry and fatigue crossing her face. It was a risk she just couldn't bring herself to let go.

She was startled out of her contemplation by a casual rap on the door, and her ginger-haired boyfriend stood in the doorway, flanked by his more reserved best friend.

"Ronald, you are supposed to wait to be invited before you come barging in." she admonished tiredly. Truly, she had given him the same response for months, and yet the boorish behavior continued.

"You know you love it!" he replied blithely, winking. Harry just gave a helpless shrug. It was pointless, they both knew it.

"We got our guy!" Ron chortled, doing a little celebratory jig, very nearly toppling the piles of books.

"Ronald!" she screeched ineffectually.

"Come on 'Mione, let's go celebrate. You spend too much time cooped up in this dusty old office."

"Ron, it's only three in the afternoon. Just because we got the rest of the day off doesn't mean that 'Mione is free." explained the darker haired Auror quietly.

"Not you too, Harry! It's not like she's going to get into any trouble. Look, we're all heroes! "

Hermione's eyes snapped in anger. "I don't take advantage like some people! Grow up Ronald!"

She winced internally at her Harry's sad eyes. He was always so disappointed when they had a row. But she just couldn't help it – Ronald Weasley had been driving her stark raving mad for MONTHS!

"Well, it certainly looks like you're taking advantage to me. That isn't a case."

"You know very well what that is Ronald." She said, trying to reign in her temper.

"A bloody waste of time, that is." He muttered petulantly.

"That, Ronald, is research that may just keep your best friend alive."

"Well, you can't do anything more with it right now. You need a book and you don't have it and that's that." He replied. "Now can we go to the pub?"

"Honestly, Ronald, is that all you think about?" she said, throwing her hands up in defeat.

"Nope. There's always quidditch." The wink he gave her was simply more than she could bear. Harry sensing the mounting conflict steered his friend out the door.

"Come on Ron. I don't think Hermione is in the mood." He threw his other best friend an apologetic glance over his shoulder. "Sorry, 'Mione."

The raven haired man flinched as both his friends turned on him in unison. "What does being in the mood have to do with anything?"

Harry Potter sighed. A year on the run seemed easier than getting his very different and yet very much alike friends to get along.

"You are never going to get that book you need…" Ronald shouted as Harry bodily dragged his fellow Auror from the room and down the hall.

"That's what you think!" she yelled after them, and slammed the door shut with a wave of her hand.

Men!

She flung herself back, and scowled at her journal. The problem was that she couldn't do any more. Hermione needed a book. She knew where a copy of the book could be found. In fact, her boyfriend and his best friend had searched the location a number of times. She knew it was there, but they had not found it. She just knew that given time and cunning, she could find the book, but an adolescences steeped in rule breaking combined with their dangerous job had satiated the boys' sense of adventure. Well, she would just have to break a rule or two by herself.

After a long internal struggle, the young witch gave in to necessity, and let go of the part of her that liked to follow the rules. After all, she was both a war hero and a barrister. If she was going to get into trouble and need to use her political capital, it was going to bloody well mean something. Gathering her cloak, she grabbed her journal and left.

There was only one place to go: Malfoy Manor.


	2. Chapter 2  An Unlikely Visit

Chapter 2

'Bored,' thought Draco Malfoy disgustedly. If he had one word to sum up his current life, it was completely utterly and stultifying bored. His father had been the decision maker as well as the guiding force within the household, but he was gone. Lord Malfoy was in Azkaban. His sentence had been reduced from the Dementor's kiss, to life in prison, and then down to 27 years. Draco reasoned that by the end of the decade, his father would have negotiated his sentence to under a decade. Of course, it would be just long enough for him to have lost his status as Lord Malfoy… which was fine by Draco, but terribly upsetting to his mother.

Narcissa Malfoy felt she couldn't be the real "Lady Malfoy" once the title had been forfeited by her husband, and so she was on a campaign to make sure that there was a 'proper' Lady Malfoy at the end of her tenure in that post. His brief relationship with Pansy Parkinson had come to a screeching halt when it was abundantly clear that the girl was willing to do anything and marry anyone to keep herself out of prison following the fall of the Dark Lord. Draco was still stunned that she had actually taken the mark. Her whirlwind romance and subsequent marriage to Teddy Nott had all the gossip rags wagging their tongues.

No, his current problem was a simpering sycophant with a great body, money, and little else. Astoria Greengrass was everything that Pansy was not: Sophisticated. Mature. Cultured. Well spoken. And, boring. He could tell what the girl was going to say in response to any question almost before he asked. If she had an original thought, it was either so long ago that she forgot it or she had chosen never to utter it again. Worse, far worse in his opinion, was that his mother was enamored with her and thought her the perfect candidate to assume the title of the new Lady Malfoy. She had even gone so far as to invite Astoria to live at Malfoy Manor when both of her parents had received sentences in Azkaban.

He realized he should be doing something productive with himself. The work of protecting the Malfoy estate from claims due to war retribution had been difficult, and he was genuinely proud of the work he had done to get there. He had even earned the title of Barrister. But while interesting, especially when his own inheritance was at stake, he had found no further incentive to continue to delve into legal issues. Without profitable employment, his skills lay idle, his brain unfocused, and his personal space invaded by an overbearing matron and her latest protégé. All of which left him with one, very large problem...

He had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and he was going buggering stark raving mad.

He needed a profession.

Or a hobby.

Immediately.

Hermione apparated from the street by the Ministry directly to the gates of Malfoy Manor. She was certain she was far enough away from the wards not to alert anyone to her presence. She had been thinking about getting the book for a long while, and well, quite frankly, she hadn't had any good ideas on how to do this, whatever this is.

She was a barrister, though, and so was Malfoy. Draco. She shook off the tremor that the last name caused her. Her time spent at the mercy of Malfoy senior caused her to hate even the name. First, she needed to get in the house, and her best bet to do that undetected would be to go into the house and study the layout, and where certain wards started and stopped, and use a few well-placed revealing charms to sort out what was there. Focusing on her breathing allowed her to let go of the little seed of panic that had gripped her at the thought of Lucius. Yes, that would work; she would simply refer to everyone by their first names. Even in her own mind.

She strode briskly up to the gate, only to find it locked. Drawing her wand, she discovered muggle misdirection spells, magical being barriers, and a few mild protection barriers making those with ill intent toward the family to become confused. Well, as she didn't seem confused, the magical barrier must be reading her intent to take the book as non-malicious. And really, it wasn't she thought, since she would return the book as soon as she could. But, the most troubling aspect was the strong anti-apparition barrier just inside the gate. She could not apparate past the gate, and she could not get to the door to call upon the house. She wondered what she needed to do to get someone to come to the gate?

"Dragon." The sound of his mother's lilting patrician tone brought him from his thoughts. "There is a mudblood at the gates. The ward that doesn't allow Ministry employees to come to the front door went off, but there is only one employee, so I think that the house didn't see it as a threat."

Draco was annoyed. The houses wards were keyed to him, and now that his mother mentioned it, he felt the soft buzzing somewhere in his skull, but obviously it wasn't a high-ranking employee, as it was barely noticeable. An auror or above would have been giving him a headache already. Of course, his mother looked askance at him for not noticing he thought sourly. As the lady of the house she was keyed into the wards as well, but the way she was looking at him for failing to notice was irritating. It wasn't as if he left them all in danger from an auror's search party.

The drudgery of dealing with a ministry oaf would be far more preferable to dealing with his mother's condescending criticism he thought.

"I was deep in thought, mother, and didn't notice. I'll check the gate. Why don't you and Astoria prepare tea? If the employee has business within the house, it could be a bit dreary." He suggested to his mother with a sigh.

"Fine, Draco. But don't let your manners go if they are annoying you. I want you to make a positive impression on Astoria." He rolled his eye at his mother's retreating back, and raised his wand, casting a complex spell to open a small hole in the wards to allow himself to apparate to the inside of the front gate. With a swirl of his robe and a soft 'pop' – he was on his way.

Well, Herminone thought pensively, maybe she should just call? But, she had no idea how one would announce themselves at a manor. Being a muggleborn could be a disadvantage when it came to the unwritten traditions and rules of the wizarding world. And what would she give Mal… Draco and his mother as the reason for her presence? Hermione hardly had a moment to contemplate that before the crack of apparition brought her attention to the blond man standing just inside the gate.

She flinched slightly in surprise, while her brain worked furiously to figure out something to say. Draco certainly had changed a great deal from his school days. Gone was the adolescent's rounded face, replaced with a firm jaw line, platinum hair styled a bit less severely than she remembered, and flashing grey eyes. She read something in his eyes in that brief moment. Amusement? Annoyance? She couldn't be certain, but his cold mask of formality fell into place almost instantaneously.

Draco was not impressed by the slight witch in a brown cloak and sensible shoes eyeing his front gate determinedly. She had oval shaped glasses and curly-frizzy hair… wait? Was that the brains of the golden-trio? Granger? Why would she be out at the manor? It must be serious to get her to this place again; his thoughts going back to the heinous actions of his sire… he quickly brought up his occulmency shields. That is not something he wished to contemplate.

"Granger, what in Merlin's name are you doing at the gate?" he asked quietly, hoping she hadn't seen his bemusement as he noticed a range of emotions flicker across her face: surprise, fear, determination. Yes, very determined. Well, he was bored. This could prove amusing …

"I… I want to speak to you privately, if you don't mind, just for a few minutes." she hedged, trying desperately to come up with something to ask the boy about. No, not boy, he was her age, and very much a man. Well, they were both barristers, right? She could ask him about… oh, her current case, of course. She'd try stroking his ego a bit and see.

"You don't just drop in on people unannounced, Granger. People are busy. They have lives. It's rude, not that I would expect anything less from the likes of you!" he snapped.

Hermione blushed furiously at the lecture. The prat was right, and she wasn't covering herself well at all. She struggled to figure out how to get into the house, but was coming up woefully short. And, that was not something she did often. It was annoying.

"Fine. You're busy-doing what, I can't possibly imagine, as no one has heard so much as a peep from you in months. But obviously all those woeful monologues about how much you have changed, and wanted to do things to help others, well that was just bollocks, wasn't it?" she said with some heat, trying to cover up her embarrassment at being caught out on her atrocious behavior. She should have sent an owl. But like that would have gotten her anywhere….

"You, want help from me? On a case? You have to be off your nut, Granger." he said snidely, watching as she blushed slightly and shifted her weight. Of course she was lying, he knew that, she certainly wasn't clever enough by half when it came to dissembling, but he found himself slightly intrigued. Merlin, he was intrigued by Hermione Granger telling a lie. His life really was over, wasn't it?

"Well, really, it's just research. I know you amassed quite the library on magical beings, and there is a book that I would like to borrow, or just have a few minutes to look at, if you could." she said sheepishly. Well, that was about as useless a lie as any; she hated that she was being so transparent, and not coming up quickly with ideas to get her where she needed.

"I see." he said studying her. He had wrapped one arm across his torso, and one elbow rested on his wrist, supporting his arm in such a way that he could tap his lips while he thought. She obviously wanted to see his library, or something inside the manor. Of course, the manor had been searched many, many times, but Granger, despite her inability to lie convincingly could be more clever by half. He did have a number of things tucked away that no one had been able to access, but he doubted that even Granger had enough time on her hands to do the meticulous research needed to find out about the Manor's secrets. Letting her in, however, would surely incense his mother and might upset Astoria as well. He let a small smile play across his lips. Maybe being with an uncouth mudblood who was ten times smarter than her would be enough to drive Astoria from the Great Hall and to her rooms, or better yet, to force her and his mother shopping. If he played his cards right, maybe he could get a few days to himself to come up with a hobby or some other pursuit. It certainly was worth a try.

Hermione watched Draco closely, as he seemed to be thinking very carefully about her request. Not comfortable with the tale she had concocted this far, she kept quiet rather than take the risk of alienating the man further.

"Oh, very well. You can come up to the library, just don't expect me to do any work for you. Oh, and you have to have tea with mother. That's the deal." He said, striding away, not even watching to see if she was following him. An absentminded wave of his hand opened the gate, leaving his fellow barrister free to follow in his wake.


	3. Chapter 3 Into the Library

Chapter 3

Hermione stretched her long legs to catch up with the retreating Malf… Draco. She noted that gone were the pea-fowl and more formal gardens, and instead, magical plants, mostly rare or exotic, were planted in focal clusters by environment – shade loving in groves of magical trees, sun loving in areas that faced south.

"The grounds look very different," she commented quietly. She wasn't quite abreast of him, and he turned, raising a sardonic brow in the manner of his late Godfather. She blushed slightly and was glad that he didn't comment on her comment. She had never been on the grounds invited. When they got to the entry, he stopped and broke their silence.

"Your cloak?" he asked, extending a hand, and she blushed as he helped her out of it with practiced ease. She was somewhat surprised. Her cloak was cut in a muggle fashion so she could easily stop in London to shop as well as Diagon Alley, and even though it was fitted, he didn't have any problems assisting her. She blushed again, uncomfortable with such chivalry. Ronald certainly wouldn't think to do this.

"You will be happy to know that I freed all of my house elves, and then hired them as free elves. They all work for pay, Ms. Granger." Hermione noted that his normally haughty sneer was replaced by amusement, then a more neutral expression.

"I seem to recall," she answered him, "that I thought that was a clever maneuver to prevent assets from being seized," she said, "but of course, that was likely just the Prophet being unkind."

"I assure you that the Prophet didn't refer to me as clever, so I'll take that as a compliment. Speaking of clever, I haven't yet been afforded the opportunity to thank you for your determination in not only clearing the name of my Godfather, and your work to ensure he received the same recognition as the rest of the Order of the Phoenix as nothing short of brilliant."

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"You look surprised by my commentary?" he said, again with the sardonic brow.

"I… well, uh, it's just that, I wasn't expecting…" she trailed off lamely.

"I am the Lord of the Manor, and you are here at my invitation. I, of course, would be civilized." He said with a smile.

"Well, yes, most gracious," she said unsurely. "I apologize for expecting a less than civil welcome." she said, her Gryffindor bravery and sense of fair play not allowing her to live with an itchy conscience.

"Oh, well. I am still Slytherin, Ms. Granger, and you did agree to have tea with my mother. Come along. My good manners and the library will feel like payment in kind, I am sure." He gave her a smug smile, and motioned for her to precede him down the hallway.

"Here we are," he said from behind her as they paused at a doorway to a pale spring green room. Many white accents and a soft grey polished stone floor made the room warm and elegant. The scent of fresh flowers wafted through the open doorway.

"Mother, Astoria, you remember Ms. Granger, our former classmate? She is now a colleague of mine, and stopped by to consult on a particularly complex case. I told her we simply couldn't allow her to depart without sampling our hospitality, so I asked her to join us."

Draco managed to squelch his smirk as his mother slowly rose to greet his guest and Astoria set down her tea, averting her gaze to cover her discomfort.

"I hope you are well," said Hermione formally, as she made her way across the room to properly greet her hostess, panic barely contained—she didn't want to be here. The book, she reminded her self firmly. An hour in the company of these people was worth the book! She tried to keep an outward appearance of calm.

Lady Malfoy studied her coolly as she poured her tea.

"Ms. Granger, we'd be delighted to hear about just why you are here to question our Draco, wouldn't we, Astoria?" she said with a prim smile.

"Oh, please call me Hermione," she said brightly, trying not to grit her teeth. Because I certainly am NOT going to call you Lady Malfoy, she thought to herself.

The woman gave her a brief, insincere smile, but didn't reply.

"Now mother, you have told me many times that you found legal talk stultifying." stated Draco, but more to see his mother squirm in the presence of a muggleborn she detested with nothing to say. Cruel, most certainly he thought, but if it got her off his back and out of the house for a week, he could live with that.

"My, this certainly is a lovely room, did you decorate it yourself?" asked Hermione, wondering how many sentences she could construct without saying 'Lady Malfoy' or 'Ms. Greengrass.' There was no way she was going to address that simpering idiot in such a fashion!

"I think not. Decorators are hired. Of course, I supervised many improvements over the years, but the room has changed little as is tradition." Lady Malfoy sniffed. "Of course, I wouldn't expect someone of your background to understand."

Hermione gave an insincere smile of her own as she took a sip of tea. "Well, it's certainly more attractive then your dungeons, Ma'am. Perhaps you can hire another decorator?" she suggested sweetly.

Draco had to swallow hard to keep from snorting his tea. Astoria paled and set her cup down.

"Astoria, I believe that we have a Ball to attend in only two month's time. There are still preparations to be made and we still must shop for appropriate gowns. If we leave now, we may just make it to the international portkey station to leave for Paris." Turning stiffly, she spoke to her son with chilly disdain, "As much as it would disappoint us to miss this wonderful opportunity to reminisce, I am sure you understand how very important our time is."

"What a magnificent idea, Mother. It will give me time to work on the case with Ms. Granger." He said, making sure his voice was appropriately bored. It wouldn't do for his mother to see that he was actually quite glad to be quit of them, and it would certainly earn him another lecture about courting Greengrass. Not as if he had to court her, he thought, more like a cow waiting to be purchased at auction—a boring, albeit not unattractive, cow. His thoughts were once again interrupted.

"Draco, when you are finished working; perhaps you could join us at the spa for a few days? Paris is so romantic this time of year." Astoria said with a dreamy smile.

"Certainly, Astoria, if there is time." He said with a careless wave as the two women gathered themselves and headed toward the door.

"Do mind the wards." was Narcissa's parting shot, as she gave her son a cold disproving glare and swept from the room.

Draco retook his seat, picked up his tea, and considered Granger at length.

"Exactly why was that necessary, Draco?" asked Hermione, when she realized he wasn't going to start the conversation.

"Not your concern, but part of the bargain" he said with a careless shrug.

Realizing she'd get no answers, she quickly set down her tea. "The tea is lovely, Draco, but I'll take no more of your time. Your library?" she prompted primly.

"Alright, Granger, don't get your knickers in a twist. What book did you wish to peruse?"

"It isn't so much a specific book, but rather I one I haven't quite been able to identify."

"Fine. You can have an hour. I have some post to answer, and if you aren't done by then, tough." He said, waving carelessly for him to follow as they made their way through the vast Manor.

When the corridor opened up to the receiving chamber by the library, Draco hesitated and turned. Hermione had stopped at the entry way. Her eyes were very bright, and her face drained of color. This was the room his Aunt had… Merlin. Why had he brought her this way? He made to make his way back to her and back track through a different set of rooms, but suddenly she squared her shoulders, swallowed hard, and took a stiff step forward. He was impressed, but tried to keep it from his face.

Hermione froze as she hit the receiving chamber. Oh, Merlin and Morganna, no, now way! She wanted to run, she wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream, but instead, she stood there frozen. Draco must have heard her stop, because he turned, and something, she wasn't sure what, flickered in the man's eyes. I am a Gryffindor, and I will not let this beat me! She thought to herself urgently, and took, a quick step in before she could change her mind.

Draco stopped in front of the door, and placed his hand on a small stand to the left of the door. He deftly moved the flat of his thumb across a small stone that had a hidden needle. He hated that damn needle, but through the years, had gotten over the habit of flinching. He waited a moment as he felt the needle take its required drop of blood.

"Blood wards!" gasped Hermione.

"They have been in place before the Wizengot declared them Dark, Granger, don't get uptight and wander off to call your boyfriend or the Boy Wonder.

"Boy wonder? That's a muggle reference…" Hermione said, now totally discombobulated. But that wasn't what Hermione was really thinking about. Blood wards. Only Malfoy blood would get her into the library, and how would she get a sample of that? She tried not to let her dismay show on her face, but obviously failed in light of his next comment.

"You never could see beyond the childish bigotry, could you, Granger? I am not that man. I read muggle papers, I shop in muggle neighborhoods, and I even have muggles in my home. See where you are? My mother doesn't like it, but I am Lord Malfoy now and I justify myself to no one. I allow people in my home based on their merit. You are here based on the fact that I think you're reasonably intelligent. Don't irritate me by proving that all that learning in your pretty little head hadn't kept you from being naïve." He said with a good bit of exasperation, as the witch had not entered the room even though he had been clearly holding the door open for her for at least 30 seconds; finally, he turned and entered, leaving her to follow. Now he was really glad his mother had left. As disdainful as she was about muggles, she'd be even more horrified by his lapse of manners.

"I'd give you a tour, but it's pretty self explanatory. The muggle section is not in this room, but I don't suppose you'll need it." He said, taking his seat behind his desk. He did have some correspondence from the goblins and what not to attend to; he'd been too bored to care about it. He'd use the distraction of having to watch Granger as incentive to work through it.

Hermione made her way through the library. In addition to the blood wards, there were likely to be other wards inside the room. She'd have cast a revealing spell to be certain, but how to do that without being obvious? Looking over the shelves, she saw a section of dark, dangerous texts—ones that might bite, burn, or harm the reader. Excellent! In order to look at these books, she'd have to levitate them. When she pulled out her wand, she noticed Draco watching her, but took he time, casually selecting a book, returning it, and taking the next.

"I thought you were well wrapped up in criminal law, Granger. Those are some fairly gruesome grimoires. What exactly are you researching?"

Hermione head snapped to the man, almost breaking the levitation spell. With a sharp wave of her wand, she caught the book before it could hit the floor. Curious by nature, she had allowed herself to get distracted by the actual content, which was both disturbing and fascinating. She had managed to suss out that there was indeed an anti-theft charm on the room and a sticking charm that would only be released when a Malfoy was present. Short of kidnapping either Narcissa or Draco, taking a vial of their blood, and then forcing them to sit there while she hunted for the book, she could think of no way to get around the charms. Maybe she should go to the wards section? There might be an answer there…

"Granger?" he said, bemusedly, "Was there something in what I asked that was difficult to answer?"

"No, not at all. I am doing some research on… well, er, it has to do with the year I spent before the final battle. There were some… things that happened that were… uhm, needing to be resolved. Well really, I think they are resolved, but this is the type of thing you check. A mistake could be disastrous." She said quietly, hoping that her rambling half truth was enough to pacify the man.

"Well, I am sure that's not all of it, but you are a lousy liar Granger, so I'll let it go for now. If you'd share what you were looking for, I might be able to locate it for you."

"As I said, Draco, I am not entirely sure..." she said carefully.

"And I said, Hermione," he drawled her name with sarcastic emphasis to point out she never had specific permission to use his given name, "You are a lousy liar. You can either suck up my time by pretending not to know what you want, and possibly not getting what it is you're after, or you can tell me. I might tell you no, but honestly, I am bored, and you are the most distraction I've had in months. Not to mention that you are the brightest witch in a generation, as much as it pains me to admit it, if you need it and it's to keep people safe, I'd be reluctant to refuse you." he said with a bit of a sneer.

"Why Draco, that almost sounded like a compliment! Why do you sound so upset by the idea?" she asked.

"Well, if the most interesting thing you have to do with your life involves the girlfriend of one of your biggest school rivals trying to steal a book that probably isn't actually in your library, wouldn't you be depressed, Granger?" he said keeping his feet propped on his desk, and hand's folded behind his head. Hermione stifled a giggle. It was a semi-relaxed, casual pose that he had tried to pull off to ill effect at Hogwarts. Here, though, in his own home, it was genuine, and dare she think it, somewhat dashing? Her cheeks colored lightly at the thought.

"Please call me Hermione." She reminded him emphatically, "I think we can get beyond last names. You were doing excellent work defending yourself and your friends Draco, surely that's been stimulating?" she asked, not quite sure why she was suddenly interested, "and wait, what makes you think I'm trying to steal a book?"

"You not denying it was a pretty good tell," the boy smirked. "And the revealing charms you used set off the wards."

"Oh."

"So, what is it?"

"The Necromantic Grimoire of Augustus Rupp" she blurted.

Draco's face went blank and suddenly his feet hit the floor.

He stared at her blankly for a long moment. "Get out." He said, voice devoid of all emotion.

Hermione cringed. "Look, I am sorry…"

"You are just here to give that bloody Weasel and the Boy-who-is-too-stupid-to-die-properly justification to come into my house and make my life miserable again. Or, you actually want me to go to Azkaban, because that is where that bloody book lands you! Get out! I thought you were above such petty revenge tactics being a Gryffindor, but I guess I was wrong."

"Draco, it's not like that, please, listen to me." She said desperately. "Ron and Harry would probably kill me if they knew I was here asking for that book. I need that book, Draco. What is it going to take for me to get it?"

"You can start by knowing someone who has it, which you don't." he said. "I'll see you to the front door."

"You don't have the book?" she asked in surprise.

"It's been lovely. Next time I'll ask you to a bloody ball, not just to tea…" he muttered almost to himself as he once again held the library door open.

"Please wait, Draco. I swear to you, I won't tell anyone you have the book. I just need to see it for a few minutes. I'll look at it here. No one will know." She pleaded.

"And what makes you think I have to book?" he asked accusingly.

"Not denying it is a pretty good tell." she said, throwing his earlier words back at him.

"You're a fool if you think you can trick me into admitting to owning such a book, and an even bigger fool if you think I'd trust you with it." He said, throwing the door open dramatically.

Hermione crossed to the door, and tilted her face up to look at him. Merlin, when did he get so tall? He's even taller than Ron now. Serious pale grey eyes steadily met her own.

"I swear to you I'd keep it secret." She said, earnestly.

"Oh yeah? Whatever you need to learn in that book, someone is going to find out you know it, and there aren't too many places to find the information that's in that book. Then someone knows you know… how long before you think they'd be able to trace that back to me?" he said. "No thanks, Granger. Azkaban is not my cup of tea."

"If I took a vow?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "It's been lovely." He intoned sardonically.

Lowering her head, Hermione made her way desultorily from the library. She noticed that he took her on a different route than the way the came in, but made no fuss of it. How very considerate, she thought.

"Good day, Granger." He said when they reached the front entrance. "I dropped the wards enough for you to apparate without crossing the property."

"It's Hermione." She replied firmly. "Thank you Draco, for seeing me." Hermione added a little more hesitantly. "Please, think about it, it is important." She said sincerely and stepped away and disappeared.

Draco stood considering the spot for quite some time before he shut the door.


	4. Chapter 4 Can't you knock?

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement… this is making me absolutely NO money… and can we even talk about all the money I am spending on the HP franchise in due to the release of the last movie?

Draco sat sipping a very sweet port, while he contemplated his options. Part of him wanted to run right to the book that Granger had requested, and immediately start perusing it to figure out why the brains of the golden trio might be interested. But that book was a one way ticket to a Dementor, and although he was quite certain that Granger had not had the opportunity to leave any sort of a tracking device, he wasn't certain enough to stake his entire future on it. The book was in a secret section of the library – the muggle library. His father had taken a certain crude enjoyment of collecting a muggle library only to be used as a ruse. Draco had always snubbed those books… while he snuck them to his room in the wee hours for reading. As with most things, his father had only acquired what he considered to be the best of muggle literature, and had taken some amusement in choosing books where muggles imagined a magical world. He doubted his father had ever read them, certainly, but he had found much joy in that library. But the crux of the matter is that library held *that* book, and he wanted to see it. He needed an alibi.

His thoughts drifted to hi mother. He knew his "punishment" was that she and Astoria had fled to leave him fend for himself and to spend a ridiculous amount of money. He had hated being alone all the time as a child, and his mother thought it was still and effective punishment. How little his mother knew him now. He had happily followed his parents into a path of darkness to earn their love and acceptance, and look where it landed him. He was less and less willing to follow now. Now, he wanted less time with his mother, not more, less structure to his behavior, not more responsibility. He wanted to set a new stage for what it meant to be Lord Malfoy. Although he had little problem acting independently, it still made him frustrated to be ignored by his mother. Well, maybe a quick chat and some soothing words would save him the other part of his punishment: his mother spending a month's profits on a ball gown.

A pinch of flu powder and a moment of waiting led to the floo being answered by their head house elf for their properties on the continent.

"Master Malfoy, sir, Frite is honored to help you, sir," enthused the elf.

"Frite, I need to speak to my mother. Please bring her to the connection if you will."

"At once, Master."

Draco waited several minutes. He had even wandered over to his drink and back again.

Finally, his mother's delicate features graced the green flame.

"Draco, we only just arrived. Couldn't you let us get settled in properly?" asked the woman dryly.

"Mother, you arrived hours ago, and I wanted to make sure that you had arrived safely and were comfortable." He said placatingly.

"Quite." She said. "I really must tell you that I don't think it impresses Astoria to have muggle born witches drop in for tea, Draco. As a proper pure-blood witch, it is important she not be seen as associating with the wrong sorts." His mother chided.

"Mother, Granger was here on business, and business is with everyone. And besides, I am neither her father nor husband, I am not responsible for who she associates with."

"Darling, you are to be courting her and must try to make a strong impression." His mother said, a note of steel in her voice.

"Mother, I haven't declared a suit for her yet, and am not courting her, remember? You yourself said that would be unseemly to both have her in residence and doing so." He huffed. Why did his mother always have to be so irritating?

"Yes, well, maybe if we reside in Paris until the Yuletide, you could court her. Yes, what a splendid idea! We will remain in residence in Paris, and you can court her from afar. That will both take care of propriety and allow you to finish up any muggle associations you might need." She said, a note of finality coming into her voice, like she had just finished planning a particularly difficult menu rather than the future of her son's love life.

"Mother, let me think that over, please. I have only come to know Astoria well recently and that is a bit soon." He sighed. Why bother to fight it? His mother would be happy with no one else. Did he ever really have a choice? "And I keep telling you, muggles and muggle borns are going to be a part of the new way of things. You need to find a way to have that not be so upsetting to either your or Astoria's sensibilities.

"Was that all, Draco?" said his mother, the flames not disguising that she had crossed her arms in a huff.

Draco winced inwardly. Great, he had gone and royally peeved her, and he needed a favor.

"Listen, Mother, I really want to join you and Astoria soon, but there is a bit of work of a sensitive nature that I need to do, and I need to make sure that the record is accurate. So, any inquiry should show that I floo'd to the Paris flat and was in residence." He said, allowing a bit of authority to come into his tone.

"Draco, I hope you are being more prudent about your work than your tea guests?" his mother snipped.

Draco sighed. There was no 'win' with his mother.

"Of course, we are very much enjoying your company this weekend." His mother stated dryly and cut the connection.

"Bloody hell," Draco muttered to himself, "married by Yuletide?" He drank the rest of his drink in a single go.

Draco sat at his desk. It was late, more early morning than late night, the Grimoire propped up so he wouldn't have to hold it as he swirled a third helping of port. The Grimoire… wasn't the worst thing he ever read. Of course, it had step by step instructions on how to make incendi… but he knew the Dark Lord had made them, so no surprise there. Necromancy, gross, but the Dark Lord had never dabbled, and his deranged aunt hadn't even dared.

He had been reading the grim book all day, all night and realized that even naïve brains of the golden trios surely knew of if not the why and how of everything he had red so far. He flipped to the next chapter.

"Into the Belly of Death" he read aloud. "Egads, not another wake the dead spell." He muttered, looking so to see if the expensive port he was quaffing could be downed in good conscience. Two fingers left, and a 20 year port should be relished. Well, one more chapter then bed.

As he read, he discovered the word 'belly' referred to an object preferably of metal, and what went into it was your fragmented soul. It didn't tell you how – that was 'darkest magic, to be stamped out at all costs to mankind' but it did tell you… how to test for it.

The author of this Grimoire taught you how to murder friend and foe alike and turn them into mindless slaves to fight your battles, yet wouldn't tell you a way to do what, exactly, Draco pondered. To do something so evil that the author of *this* book would fight it? In fact, here was a test for, what exactly?

"I must be drunk." He said sullenly to no one. "This makes no sense." He marked his place, realizing he was too gone in fatigue and alcohol to make heads or tales of the text. He would start again in the morning.

Hermione entered the little flat above the apothecary that she had been renting in Diagon Alley since completing school. The Weasley's had wanted her to stay at the Burrow and she had for time, but the more serious her relationship with Ron had become, the more this had felt like she needed her own space. When she had moved into the little space, she had thought maybe she would have felt lonely, but all she felt was relief.

She was frustrated with herself and going through with such a poorly thought out impulse. By now, Draco probably had burnt the book, and she would never be able to test to be sure her best friends curse scar wasn't the catalyst for the impending rebirth of the Dark Lord. Her eyes felt hot and stung as she blinked back tears. She plucked Crookshanks off the kitchen counter and gave him an absent minded pat, and went through the soothing motions of preparing tea. It was early evening, and if the boys had gone out, she would have some time to herself.

She was just getting settled in her small sitting room with her journal and the tea, when Ronald walked through the door. Her temper simmered just below a boil – she had told him on a number of occasions that this was her space, and while he was always welcome, she should knock. He smelled of ale and cigarette smoke. Obviously he and Harry had already been to the pubs.

"Ronald, do I have to put up an imperturbable charm to get you to knock?" she asked, fatigue winning out over irritation in the tone of her voice.

"Is that any way to greet the love of your life?" he replied, a big goofy grin undermining any irritability in his statement, Hermione sighed heavily. Well, at least he was happy when he'd been out on the town, she thought, but she wasn't in the mood for silliness.

"Hello Ron," she said, but deciding not to get up "I've had a long week and a long day, and don't mean to be rude. I really want you to start to respect the things that I tell you are important to me and that I want. It's a small thing to knock, isn't it?" she said with a hint of exasperation.

"'lo Mione." He replied, bending over unsteadily to give her a swift peck on the lips. "I have had a long month and I really want you to want the things that I want." He said, trying to parrot her statement but failing in the details due to his tipsiness. He waggled his eyebrows in an overblown mockery of suggestive behavior.

Hermione sighed again. This had been an ongoing debate with them. Ron had wanted more intimacy faster now that the war was over. She realized that it was a little old fashioned, but she had wanted to wait until they were married… but they hadn't. In the fear and fighting, she had caved, but just a couple of times. She felt badly about it. She wanted that kind of relationship with her husband, and Ronald wasn't even her fiancé- not yet anyway. He was patient and understanding when they spoke of it, and had agreed to her wishes, but then anytime they disagreed, or she asked for something, she felt like he was throwing this in her face.

"Ronald, expecting common courtesy from you and you not getting sex are hardly equivalent. I know you've been out, but I don't appreciate it. Go bug Harry." she said, making a shooing motion.

"You're no fun either!" he said, just a bit petulantly. "Harry said that he was beat and wanted to call it an early night, so I should go home, but I want to go out some more. Come on, 'Mione, you know I was just joking. Come out with me for a couple of hours?" he said, his voice not quite a whine.

Hermione considered him again. He hadn't had too much to drink, but a few more would definitely be too much, and then no one would have fun. He was a bit disheveled, his 5-oclock shadow ruddy on his pale skin, one shoulder of his traveling cloak not quite straight, and what looked to be a bit of mustard on one boot, probably left over from the pub food he likely grabbed for dinner. For whatever reason, her traitorous mind managed to whisper that Draco certainly would not barge into her apartment, demand sex, and then whine about going out. She shoved those thoughts aside, but held firm to her resolve.

"We can go out for a nice dinner tomorrow night, Ronald. You should go home and sleep off the damage you managed to do already. Harry was right." She said. "I really prefer my book and a quiet night." She said, giving him a small smile.

"Fine." Snapped the red-head. "I'll go out with the twins. Can't count on you for anything fun!" he said, clearly pouting and slammed out the door.

Hermione sighed again. He'd be back around to apologize tomorrow, but seriously, how many times did they need to go through this? Too tired to contemplate that, she focused her mind on her journal, the path a certain book, and a blond Slytherin. She had to get that book!

The next morning, Draco was back in the library, savoring a lovely French press coffee and some buttery pastries that he suspected the elves had swiped from their Paris estate. He looked at the grimoire and sighed. He likely shouldn't have left it out overnight since he knew who was looking for it, but Griffyindors just weren't that sophisticated. He began to read the chapter again. After an hour, he summoned a pen, and piece of parchment and a stiff drink. The chapter was on how to test for remnants of a spliced soul, not on putting a dead body back into motion. His skin crawled. If this was what Granger was looking for… exactly whose soul had been ripped to shreds? Dread set in the pit of his stomach, and the burning of three fingers of Ogden's finest did nothing to alleviate it. He quickly penned his missive.


	5. Chapter 5 MEN!

Disclaimer:

Lawyers: I'd be very flattered if you sued me because you thought my writing was in any way a threat to Ms. Rowling or the HP universe. Really! I think a bunch of people would start laughing at you, though, as being an idiot. Just letting you know…

A special thanks to the Infinity part of the Infinity Ltd. for the excellent beta work on this chapter… on with the show….

Hermione sat fuming.

Really, it was already 3pm on Saturday, and normally Ron would have been here by now to apologize for his behavior yesterday and make plans. Now, on the one day she really allowed herself to cut loose and get out of the house, the day was half gone, and she had nothing to show for it. On top of the book failure this week, her whole week seemed like a total loss. Frustrated, she set aside her current reading with a sigh, and headed to her small kitchen to make tea.

What should she do differently, she thought idly to herself as she waited for the tea to steep. Was it really Ron's fault, or her own for putting up with it? If she wasn't waiting around for Ron, what could she be doing differently? She thought about her other friends, Ginny, Neville, Luna… when was the last time she actually had gone out with one of them? It has been positively ages. No more letting Ronald Weasley rule my free time, she thought decisively, I am going out on my own.

Setting her now empty tea cup down firmly, Hermione walked with conviction to the floo. A short shopping trip with a girlfriend and a fun dinner out sounded like just the thing to take her mind off her boyfriend's oblivious handling of her time and her best friend's possible 'problem.' With a pinch of powder, she stooped down and called for the burrow. Molly's kind face filled the connection. "Hermione, dear, lovely to see you. I'm afraid Ron went out with the twins last night and I haven't seen him, isn't he with you?" she said a hint of worry coloring her voice.

"No. He stopped by last night and said he was going out with them. We didn't have firm plans today, but actually, I wasn't calling for him. I was hoping to catch Ginny." she asked.

"Oh, well dear, I shouldn't have assumed! I'll get Ginny for you straight away. Thank you for letting me know about Ron. I'll check with the twins and see what he has gotten up to. Knowing those two they had him tied to a chair to test some products and forgot about him. I'll be right back."

She waited a few minutes until Ginny's face filled the floo connection. "Ginny! It's great to see you. I know that it's short notice, but I was wondering if you wanted to join me in London for a bit of window shopping and maybe a bite to eat?" she asked.

"Sure! Harry is spending the evening with Teddy and Andromeda, and I wasn't really interested in a quiet night in but couldn't think of something. I'll be right over." With that the girls broke the connection.

It was hours later and a couple of glasses of wine with Ginny and Hermione was quite a bit more satisfied with her week. The two had sat gossiping and were contemplating a decadent dessert menu when Hermione sensed someone standing over her. Expecting to see the waiter, she was surprised to see one very red-faced boyfriend.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked tersely.

Hermione was complete dumbfounded by her boyfriend's obviously angry demeanor.

"London, obviously." Supplied Ginny with an eye roll when her friend didn't respond. "What's wrong with you, anyway? And quit making a scene."

"What wrong with me? bI spent the last two hours trying to figure out where in hell my girlfriend went." He spat. b"It thought we were going out to the pub tonight?"

"Ronald," Hermione started slowly, "I said I would go out to dinner with you tonight.b Not to the pub, not out on the town. bWhen I hadn't heard from you by tea time and you weren't home, I assumed you weren't coming since we didn't have solid plans. Not that I should have to explain myself to you – you didn't even make it home last night! Now if you are going to stay, sit down and join us for dessert. But if all you are going to do is yell, do it elsewhere." She finished primly, once again perusing the dessert menu.

"That's it?" spluttered the boyfriend. "No sorry for standing you up? No sorry for worrying you? No sorry for ruining your Saturday night by forcing you to look all over London for me?" he stated with a scoffing laugh.

"That's it," returned Hermione coolly, "since I certainly didn't stand you up – I never said I'd go to the pub and if we were going to dinner, you should have been there by four. Since we told your mother where we were going if you were half the auror you think you are, you'd know where we were and what we are doing, and you wasted my entire day as well by rudely barging in on my Friday evening, so I guess we are even. Are you joining us are not?" she said closing her menu.

"Look, you said you were going to London, and I went to all our favorite spots looking for you because you said it's important for us to have 'our time,'" Ron snapped, his fingers making the quote marks around his head, "and you weren't at any of them."

"What? The Leaky? The Wild Snitch? Merlin & Morganna's?" Hermione scoffed.

"Well… yeah." Replied Ron with a look of confusion.

"Your favorite spots, Ron, not mine. The places that we always go because it's all you want to do! A wizard's pub, a quidditch pub, and a pub ran by muggles that like magic. ALL PUBS! I am sick of pubs. I am sick of pub food. This," she snarled, gesturing wildly around herself, "is a restaurant Ron, with entrées and real food and wine and ambiance, which you are ruining. So either sit down and eat, or leave." Hermione finished quietly looking around as a number of people were starting to stare.

The ginger-haired auror turned on heel and stormed out without another word, just as the waiter was coming over.

"Well, I think he's clear on that." Said his Ginny, looking at the older witch with a sardonic smile. "Don't let my brother get you down. He can be oblivious a lot of the time, Hermione."

Hermione was relieved at the waiter's timing. He was obviously going to ask them to leave unless Ron did. Maybe they could finish their dessert in peace. Hermione tried to put it out of her mind as she ordered a lovely Vin Santo with cantucci magically transported from a Tuscan bakery that day.

Men!

Hermione woke the next morning to a tapping at the window, a beautiful tawny owl with a Prophet in her talons. She has barely given the owl its treat and sent it on its way when Hedwig also landed.

_Mione,_

_Ron is an arse. If you want to talk, I am cooking breakfast. My place,10?_

_Love,_

_Harry_

She smiled at the note from her best friend. Not having cornflakes for breakfast again sounded like just the ticket to lift her spirits, well that and a long talk with Harry about Ron. She had to figure out why they had been fighting so much lately. She quickly penned a reply and sent it back with the beautiful snowy owl.

"Harry?" Hermione called out as she came through the floo promptly at 10. She was greeting to the wafting aromas of bacon and potatoes. Yes, much better than cornflakes.

"Hey Hermione. Breakfast is almost ready. Why don't you have a seat and help yourself to some tea while I finish up."

"So, you already heard about my row with Ron?" asked Hermione as she settled in.

"Yup. Afraid so. He stormed in here right after, I think, if the color of his face was any indication."

"Magenta?" Hermione quipped sadly, the smirk on her lips not reaching her eyes.

"Not his best color." Harry confirmed with a nod.

"It seems like we are fighting more and more. We used to spend all our time together, and talk about everything. Now, he just wants to go to the pub and goof off. I don't know what has gotten into him." She said, her brow furrowing in concern.

Harry placed the plates in front of the both of them, and sat down. "Hermione, has it occurred to you that you used to share everything in common? There was a war on, and if it wasn't someone trying to kill us, trying to end the war, trying to finish school and trying to stay alive, we didn't have time for it?"

"That's all well and good, and we took some time to celebrate and recuperate, but now…"

"Don't you see, Hermione, that's just it. Now that you don't have those things in common, you can go back to 'normal.' For you that is study, hard work, and a sense of accomplishment. For Ron, that's working hard as much as he has to, to get by, and savoring his free time, friends and family, and not much else. He isn't just goofing off, he's just making choices that are normal for him." He chided gently. "You both want the other one to change, because it's 'not normal' but you two haven't had 'normal' together yet."

"But you aren't goofing off!" Hermione said defensively.

"No. But normal for me never was goofing off, Hermione. Sure, I goof off some, especially with Ron. It's part of what I love about him. He makes me feel, well, normal. But I don't expect him to do research with me on the things I'm interested in, or take care of Teddy just because I want to, or…" he shrugged helplessly.

"So I shouldn't expect him to do any of the things that are important to me?" she asked sharply.

"I didn't say that either," soothed his best friend. "But Ron isn't going to get it simply because you expect him to. You have to talk to him and tell him what you want."

"But I do the things he wants to do! I go to his stupid pubs! I watch live quidditch! I even have played muggle beer pong. I have told him I wanted to go to dinner more, go to a show, explore London, and he just takes me to another pub!" she replied, her voice rising in exasperation.

"Hey, I get it, Ok? I talked to Ron last night, and I get that he doesn't get it, at least not yet. He won't get it while he is so mad." Harry replied with a sad sigh. "That's a part of Ron that I don't like so much."

"Sorry for getting so worked up. I just am so frustrated. I don't think he sees me for who I am, now, only for who he thought I was." She said, digging into the breakfast.

"Hermione, you have to see Ron for who he is, too. He isn't like you, and it's hard for him to change." Harry said, keeping his eyes diverted to his own plate. "Seriously, I am worried about you guys."

"Harry?" Hermione said, worry entering her own tone, she was surprised when her best friend looked up to see that his eyes were a bit brighter. "I am sure it will all blow over. We are just being prats." She said kindly trying to reassure her friend.

"No, Ron is being a prat. You just aren't giving in. I don't think you should, either 'Mione." He replied, a little Gryffindor determination steeling his voice.

Hermione shrugged and the two worked on their breakfast in a companionable, albeit pensive, silence.

When Hermione returned home after a nice visit, thoughts of returning to her leisure reading were thrown out the window by the huge racket of her trespassing boyfriend chasing a large and very angry eagle owl around her flat.

"You dirty, stupid excuse for a chicken! Give me that bloody letter!"

"Ronald, what do you think you are doing!" snapped Hermione. "It's obvious that the post is 'deliver to recipient only.' And what are you doing intercepting my private post in my private rooms without and invitation?"

"Oh, so now I need an invitation to come over? Who's the letter from, your new boyfriend?" snapped the red head angrily.

"Well,I don't know who it's from, you great prat, because YOU scared the owl onto the top of the cabinets. Now just back off!" she ordered sternly, and the owl flew to her, fluffing its wings at her once in an undignified huff. She quickly relieved of its letter, but it just stared balefully at her. It was obviously waiting for a reply. She briefly took note of the very fine cream parchment and crest, and then scanned the missive quickly.

_Hermione,_

_I have had some __revelations__ in the matter of which we conversed this Friday past. I would be quite appreciative of your company post-__haste__. Perhaps tea time? I think we have much __soul searching __to consider._

_Regards_

_Lord Malfoy_

She noticed that Draco had carefully underlined not only her name, but key words and then signed the document with his Christian name.

"Well, what is it?" Ron snapped.

"A note from an acquaintance who knows how to extend a proper invitation." She snapped distractedly.

Ron made a grab for the letter. She thrust the parchment behind herself. "Ron, how dare you!" she gasped, but her boyfriend continued to try for the letter.

"That's it! I am sick of your not listening to me, and not respecting my time, my space and what I want. You aren't a four year old. Stop it or get out!" she yelled.

"What are you hiding from me? First, you don't want to go out Friday, then you stand me up, and now you are hiding a letter. What's wrong with you?" Ron yelled back, crossing his arms across his chest.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me you ask? I am fed up to here, Ron," Hermione ranted, waving her head somewhere over her head "with your behavior. You don't respect my space. You come in whenever you want, even though I have asked you to knock and not come in my flat uninvited. You assume that I should want to do whatever you want to do, whenever you want to do it, with no thought of how I am feeling or what I may want. You expect me to wait around for you to decide to come over and do something with me, and the first time in a year that I make plans without specifically consulting you, you go off your nut about it. You aren't my keeper!" she ranted, "And I am sick of it!"

Ron stepped back, gob smacked. "What the hell do you mean? I don't respect you? I do whatever you tell me to do! 'I'm too tired,'" he mocked in an overblown wail, in an unflattering imitation of her, "so I don't go out. 'I'm bored with pubs'" again, with a grating falsetto that was really getting on Hermione's nerves, "so I go to your snobby restaurants. We go for walk around Diagon Alley and spend half the time in the bloody book store! And you say YOU are sick of it?"

"Oh, that's rich. You can add not listening and completely blind to your list of what's wrong with you! I said that you didn't respect my SPACE, not that you didn't respect ME, but obviously, that might be true, too! And spend half our time in the book store? How much time do you think we spend at the quidditch shop? Or Wheezes? And can you actually remember the last time you ate at a place that had a menu? You are being selfish and demanding and I am sick of it!" she yelled, angry tears forming in her fine.

"Fine! If you think I am such a git, then go have FUN with everyone else, but don't expect me to hang around for you just when you are bored or need me to do something for you!"

"Ron, maybe you should read a psychology book. Quite frankly, you are the one going out and having fun with everyone else and thinking I'm a stick in the mud, and the only time you do something with me that I want to do is when you want something. Grow up!"

Ron lifted a finger and opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He snapped his jaw closed in consternation, and stormed out, slamming the door. Hermione stared at the closed door sadly for a few moments, and disconsolately penned a reply.

_Draco – _

_Tea sounds lovely. I am sure that what if we __check__, we will discover that we have only to discuss __one piece__ of the puzzle. I'd hate if we left it to chance that everything is __resolved__. That is my goal, to be certain. _

_I will see you promptly at ._

_Hermione_

Well, if he found the Grimoire and correctly interpreted her interest in it as she expected, her letter should tell him all he needed to know, she thought pensively. Hopefully, he wasn't as dense as her boyfriend.

Men!


	6. Chapter 6 Take A Vow

**Chapter 6**

Draco waited at the gates at just a few minutes to 4:00 pm. He had enjoyed the walk from the manor to the gates as a pleasant distraction from his current anxiety. Gone were those ridiculous magical pea-fowl, whose loud cries prevented any kind of a lie in and whose territorial nature had prevented him for enjoying much of the gardens in the past. Instead the gardens were well planned, working potions gardens. He had them planted himself, honoring his late godfather, and not only did he find them dead useful for his own occasional brewing, they had become a significant revenue source, much to his Mother's dismay. He felt they were well designed and still very attractive, but his mother maintained that the very thought that her house was used for common 'farming' like some commoner kept her from repeating the extravagant lawn parties of the past. Draco did not miss them. He was interrupted from his brief reverie by the sound of sudden apparition. There stood Grang… Hermione, he reminded himself firmly, as she cast about expectantly. He had cast a concealment charm and stood just behind the wards, so he could confirm that she had actually arrived alone.

Hermione approached the gate. Her open, unwary demeanor and the lack of any tell-tell warning of the wards showed that she was completely alone. With a brief flick of his wand Draco released the charm and strode forward.

"Hermione, thank you for accepting my rather abrupt invitation for tea. I know that the work that we set upon is difficult, but my schedule just wouldn't allow for much adjustment, since I was in Paris over the weekend. Please come in." he said, opening and holding the gate as he ushered her in.

"I appreciate you fitting me in, Draco" returned Hermione, giving him a searching look. She gave him a small forced smile and walked with him to the main entrance. However, Draco turned sharply before ascending the steps to the entrance.

"There is a lovely conservatory off the libraries on this wing of the house. I thought you might enjoy the walk through the garden rather than trudging through the manor." Draco explained. Really, he had decided at the time of the invite to avoid the main hall. Hermione didn't deserve reminders of his crazed aunt.

"You've done beautiful things with the garden – form and function very much in harmony. It's exquisite." Hermione complimented.

The compliment caught Draco off guard for a moment. "You are interested in gardening?" he asked, truly curious.

"No, not gardening, just gardens. I have studied general forms, and of course have done my coursework in herbology. I read some supplemental texts on combining wizarding plants and formal garden design. This seems like a prime example. "

"Thank you, I... I spent a good bit of time on organizing them." he said, his voice a bit quiet in his surprise at her compliment.

He opened the first in a series of French style garden doors and ushered her into a comfortable sitting room with a lovely view of the main plaza and fountain of the garden. Tea service awaited them, already laid out by the house elves.

"Is this room warded?" Hermione asked, as she hesitantly took the seat that Draco waved her to after he once again helped her with her cloak.

"About as well as a Gringott's vault." He replied nonchalantly.

"Good. Are you going to let me see the book?"

Draco smirked at her. No, she would never make a good Slytherin. No plan, no poise, and no manipulation – but these were skills he excelled at, and he had a plan. Yes, he wanted to find out what Granger was up to, but only while revealing as little as possible himself.

"I never said I had the book." He replied mildly, leisurely fixing his tea. He was surprised that Granger took her tea with only the slightest bit of cream, no sugar. He would have suspected her to use copious amounts of sugar.

"Alright, so suppose you tell me what you want me to know?" she asked, rolling her eyes at him.

"That's it? No argument, no insistent demands?" he asked, quirking a surprised eyebrow at her.

"Look, Draco, I know you don't want me wasting your time, and I certainly don't want you wasting mine. I need the book." She said, taking a sip of the tea.

"No." he replied simply.

"No, but then why…" Hermione began, frustration began edging her voice.

"I want to know, in detail, exactly what you want that book for." He said, dropping the light tone and smirk.

"I see. I don't think I can share that." She said, matching his now serious tone.

"Well, then it's only tea, I guess." He said shrugging, and taking a sip of his tea.

"You don't share the book, and I don't share why I need it." She said, her temper starting to get the better of her.

"If I had the book, and I shared it with you, then you'd know everything I know. How do I know you would share everything you know?" he said.

"Look, I can't tell you everything I know…" she said, exasperation clearly written on her face.

"Then no deal."

"It's dangerous!" she snapped, "And the fewer people that know, the better."

"I think I know why you want that book, and I am telling you, I am not leaving it to you to make sure the Bastard is dead. So either we take an oath to help each other and make sure it's done right, or I don't help are all. You're right, I don't want you wasting my time, and that's the only thing that's going to get you what you want." He said, irritated that his meticulously drawn Slytherin plan was going up in smoke to Gryffindor brashness. It's subtly was lost on the woman, anyway. Woman? He looked at Grang…Hermione appraisingly. She was wearing a soft ivory sweater that set off her apricot skin and warm brown eyes to perfection and a smartly tailored skirt, and more sensible shoes. It was… nice in a secretary sort of way he supposed.

"I promised Dumbledore himself I'd keep this secret." She said, setting down her cup, and biting her lower lip anxiously.

"He's dead, and if it's that important, you need back up." Draco reasoned.

"You won't even tell me if you have the book!" she pointed out.

"Then why are you here, Granger?" he said sternly, fixing her with a hard stare. She met it dead on.

"Right. Fine." She folded her hands in her lap, not breaking their staring contest. "An unbreakable vow then. I tell you what I need the book for, you tell me you have the book, and you agree to assist me in my task, regardless of the danger." She threw in recklessly.

"You're bluffing." Draco said calmly. "And I thought giving you the book was helping. Dangerous helping, if I were to have it and give it to you."

"What I have to do is far more dangerous than having a contraband book." She stated grimly. "So if you want to know, you have to be all in."

"Well, if you won't tell me, then how are you going to get us a binder for an unbreakable vow?" asked Draco with a smirk.

Hermione returned his smirk with a haughty smile. "We have the means of binding right here. Are you prepared to go through with it?"

Draco sat back, slightly stunned. Was he? Surprisingly, not only did he feel in his gut that yes, he was indeed willing to go on this ridiculous melodrama even though he was entirely certain of what it was, but that he was actually looking forward it – the challenge of matching wits with one of the smartest witches of the age, and doing something that no one else could do, all for the greater good. He had seen the public's adoration of the golden trio, and knew there was so much more to the story. They seemed confident in who they were and what they achieved. He admired that confidence. He wanted that.

"Yes," he returned slowly, "but I want to draft the vow on paper first, before we proceed. And how do we do the binding ourselves?"

Hermione eyes lit up in excitement. He had never seen her in such a state, and her face took on a liveliness that he had never witnessed before. It was, well…he wasn't sure what it was. Charming?

"Oh, thank you Draco, and what a wonderful idea to prepare the statement in advance. You have house elves – they are experts in compulsion magic, and can easily do a binding wandlessly. Very few know that they can do that, however, so it's not surprising that you wouldn't know. We just need to summon your most trustworthy elf and have him or her perform the spell, and then you, as Lord of the manor, swear the elf to secrecy."

"Really?" he asked, incredulously. "Never mind. I shouldn't doubt the founder of house elf rights about what they can and can't do. Let's get the drafting done." He stated calmly as he pulled his wand and waived a stack of blank parchment, quills, and ink his way, mind already on the language he wanted to include. He'd have the whole story out of Granger, one way or another!

This couldn't be working more perfectly, Hermione thought to herself excitedly, and she quickly penned wording for Draco's vow. While she wasn't thrilled to work closely with her former nemesis on such a project, she had been nervous of going through the whole thing alone, and this way her big fight with Ron wouldn't slow her down much.

"Ready." She announced, and noticed that Draco was already finished, and seemed to be studying her intently.

"Right." He replied, slowly handing over her own vow. She scanned it quickly and gasped. And then read it again carefully.

"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger" How on earth did he learn her middle name? "solemnly swear to disclose the full nature of your need to review the Grimoire of Augustus Rupp?" Not too bad for a start, she thought.

"Do you also swear to accept Draco Malfoy's guidance, advice and assistance in resolving the problem to be addressed by information contained in the Grimoire?" Huh. Need to change "accept" to "listen to", she conceded, as she quickly penned the correction.

"And, do you further resolve that each should protect the life, health, and sanity of the other to the conclusion of this task? Do you swear this on your magic? So mote it." She almost changed the sentence so it didn't begin with "And". Grammatically incorrect, but no reason to upset her host she chided herself, and desisted. Honestly though – Draco Malfoy would swear on his magic to protect her sanity while they hunted a horcrux? Well really, he didn't know what he was getting into, did he? But, as uncomfortable as it made her that Draco was swearing to such a thing, her vow for him said something similar. She looked up to find him scribbling away.

"I want your third vow to match mine." He stated calmly, "So we have the same level of responsibility to each other." He said distractedly, finally looking up and once again exchanging parchments.

"Draco, don't take this the wrong way, but you are being unusually agreeable in all this…" Hermione trailed off, not sure how to ask Draco why he would be so accommodating if there wasn't anything in it for him politely.

"Let's do the blasted vow, so we can actually talk." He returned brusquely, and called out "Gideon!"

A tall, thin elf popped in at his Master's elbow with a low bow.

"Gideon, this is Ms. Granger. She said that a mature house elf could bind wizards to a vow. Is that correct?"

The elf's amber eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded slowly.

"Excellent! I know you can read, so here our vows, can you administer them and bind us, please?" asked Draco dryly, watching Hermione as she chewed on her lip nervously.

"I, ah…" the elf trailed off once fixed with Draco's stern glare "Yes, master."

The deed would be done.


	7. Chapter 7 Another Fine Mess

Another Fine Mess

"What is *that*?" exclaimed Draco, scathingly, after the gold light of the binding faded.

"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione, caught somewhat off guard by his suddenly querulous tone.

"That!" Draco said emphatically pointing in a rather dramatic fashion at his own wrist, but before Hermione could focus on his wrist, she noticed a subtle white undulating pattern around her wrist where the binding magic has fused the vow to her own magic. She looked at the mark in consternation. She had no idea why it would be there.

"Gideon, explain this at once!" demanded Draco, waving his arm around as if it were some troublesome object, rather than a part of his own body.

Gideon backed up fearfully, "What is Master Draco need'n explai'n?"

"Stop it, Draco!" Hermione ordered impatiently, "There is no reason to speak to anyone like that! Besides, we aren't going to get answers any more quickly by berating the poor dear."

Hermione turned to the house elf, and gave the nervous elf a reassuring smile. "Giddeon, why did these marks appear after our vow?"

"You be askn' for an vow bind'n you, you did," explained the elf, both with a reproachful look in his eyes, like what he was saying was more than obvious, but fearfully, since his Master's ire was very apparent.

"Yes, thank you Giddeon, but we were surprised that they left marks. Wizard vows don't normally leave a visible mark. Will this go away?" she said, showing him the mark.

The elf regarded her somewhat doubtfully. "Well, why'n you want them to go away, Mistress? Don't you be intended on your vow?"

"She is not your Mistress, Giddeon!" corrected Draco simultaneously as Hermione's voice sternly informed the elf "I am NOT your mistress!" The regarded each other with exasperation for a moment.

"So they will go away if we fulfill our vow?" she asked hopefully.

"Well, yes'm. But they will be going away if you be breakin' your vow too. You's now your intended."

Hermione's brow furrowed but Draco quickly held up a hand to cut off her next question.

"This was a vow of intention? What kind of intention?" Draco asked darkly.

"Yes, Master Draco, sir. You be ask'n for a binding to a Wizards vow, you did." He said, nodding emphatically.

"Yes, an unbreakable vow, or wizards oath – where we swear on our magic that we will complete a task." Draco said slowly, "That's what you did, isn't it?

"Oh, no Master Draco, that only a Wizard can do. You asked Gideon to bind you to a Witch. You are now a bound Witch, you is." explained the elf, obviously relieved to be clearing up the miscommunication.

Hermione watched perplexed as all the remaining color drained from Draco's face.

"Intention?" Draco said, his voice raising as to what sounded suspiciously like hysteria to Hermione's ears. "Intention, or intended? You meant intended, didn't you?" he said, pointing an accusing finger at the elf.

"Yes, you're vow says you take care of Mistr… her." Replied the elf, cutting himself off as both the withc and the wizard present glarmed at the use of the word Mistress.

"Get out of my sight!" roared Draco, throwing his nearly empty teacup onto the fireplace hearth with a thunderous crash. Gideon wasted no time in complying and quickly popped away.

"Draco" Hermione stated firmly, "I don't know what the problem is, but there is no reason to speak to Giddeon like that!"

"Oh no, well maybe I should be speaking to you like that!" Draco yelled. "That elf just bound me to you, as my intended. I know you are muggle born, but surely you do have some idea what that means?"

"No, I don't, but it can't possibly be too difficult if the mark goes away." She said reasonably.

"Of course it's that bad! We are ENGAGED, Granger, and I can't court anyone else until our suit is completed. I have to 'woo' you! This mark will only disappear if we are married, or after I have made a good faith effort of my intentions to try and get you to MARRY me! Hell, I don't even know if this mark will go away if we vow NEVER to marry. I might not able to court a pure blood witch ever again! You know how buggered up that just made my life? My mother is waiting in Paris with my girlfriend, and if I declare suit to her, my magic will KILL me! What's worse, if we DON'T fulfill my vow to take care of you and accomplish the task, then I can't get married until our magic decides that I have made a good enough effort, and you simply won't accept. If this is the same as the normal vow, and bloody hell how would we know THAT, it just might mean foreever!" Running out of steam from his tirade, Draco collapsed into a heap in the chair and threw an arm over his face. He couldn't' face this right now.

Hermione stood their stunned. Engaged? The elf had engaged them? That's what this meant? Well, that certainly wasn't that big of a deal. Obviously she had no intention of ever marrying Draco… and with that though, her arm began to burn as if molten metal was being pressed into the binding mark. Hermione dropped to her knees with a gasp, clutching her wrist, tears in her eyes.

A strangled gasp had Draco glaring across the room at Hermione, only to watch her drop to the floor, in obvious distress. Good, he thought crossly to himself, about time that she figured out exactly what her bumbling had wrought, but just as he thought this did a brief flare of heat and pain was in his own bonding mark. He looked at his wrist in consternation before realization struck. Oh, now that wasn't good. He was supposed to take care of her, and the bond was telling him… she needed him. He looked up sharply to see her clutching her own wrist, cradling the arm to her chest, fighting back tears, biting her lip and trembling. He quickly crossed to her.

"What happened?" He asked sharply trying to take her hand so he could examine her wrist.

"I don't know!" she cried but turned her body to keep the wrist to her body. "It just suddenly started hurting! It feels like it's being cut off with a hot blade!" she sobbed no longer able to contain the tears.

Draco had been forced to study this type of binding since he was small, likely to avoid just the mess he was in now, he thought dejectedly. She must have crossed the intent of the vow, somehow. "What were you thinking just before the pain started?" he asked urgently.

"That I didn't know what the big deal was, we have to do the task regardless, and I'm not going…" but she could not carry on. The pain suddenly doubled and she couldn't get her breath.

"You cannot think that we aren't going to be married! This is a suit, you intend for it to end in marriage, or a dissolution of the suit, but only after I 'woo' you so to speak, and let's hope to Merlin that our magic recognizes that process as the task." Draco ordered, a fierce glare studying her intently for her comprehension, but she just continued to stare at him, dumbfounded and in shock.

"Say it!" he snapped.

"Say what?" Hermione sobbed. The pain was making it difficult for her to think.

"That you intend to accept my suit and finish the task." He said, rolling his eyes at her thick-headedness.

Her voice shaky with tears, she looked at him uncertainly, but saw no harm in complying. "I intend to accept your suit and finish our vowed task." Hermione felt the pain in her wrist cut back down to the original level. Draco studied her for a moment.

"Say it again." he insisted.

"I intend to accept Draco's suite, and finish our vowed task." Again, the pain lessened, but was not gone.

"You need to accept the possibility we could marry, or that pain will not stop." He said, desperately. The pain in his own vow had evaporated as soon as he had come to her aid.

Hermione's eyes widened in fear. The vow knew whether she was seriously considering Draco's 'proposal'. Could she even think of every marrying Draco Malfoy? Being Mistress of this Manor? It was absurd! The pain flared again. Could she ever be happy? A small niggling voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she currently wasn't sure she could be happy with Ron, who was her boyfriend. Would Draco be so different? Hermione got distinctly uncomfortable as she realized that is some ways, a man like Draco would be easier to live with. The pain faded away to nothingness.

Hermione looked at her wrist, incredulous. She was in so much trouble.


	8. Chapter 8 The Crux of the Problem

Disclaimers:

Is anyone else irritated when they read at the top of each story they ever read "I'm sorry this took so long?" Real life… yada yada yada… writer block… yada yada yada. Meh. Honesty, my dear readers! I'm horrible at time managmement, stressed out a lot, and will post slowly unless I'm unemployed. That is, if I manage to lose my job and don't get too depressed to write because I lost my job... right?

On with the story….

Hermione looked up, startled to see a pristine white handkerchief extended to her. Despite the chivalrous gesture, Draco's eyes remained flinty.

"Thank you." She said meekly wiping at her eyes, then massaging her wrist to alleviate the tension left in the joint after the pain diminished.

Draco withdrew and sat back in his own chair, lips pursed. "Unfortunately, I don't think there are any books on house elf magic in the Malfoy library."

Hermione sighed. "Well, there is one at the Ministry, but I have already read it, and it had nothing on this type of binding. And unfortunately, wizarding bias against the magic of another race means that there really aren't other references."

"We'd best just get on with the task." Draco said with barely concealed exasperation. "And you better hope that Weasel doesn't ask you to marry him before we're done. If you accept, the bond might just kill you." He explained flatly, then stood and waved a wand in a complex pattern over the table sitting between the two divans. A book appeared.

Hermione sighed heavily, just managing to keep back a scathing comment as to whether the sudden appearance of the book was really all that difficult.

"So, let's forget the bonding thing for a moment, and focus on the book." Hermione said.

"Easier said than done." muttered Draco, but Hermione darted him a sharp look. "My life may be over when my mother hears."

"It may be over if Voldemort returns, too." She snipped, carefully flipping the book open and searching the first page.

Draco paled visibly. "He created a dark vessel like the ones mentioned in the book?" he whispered.

"No. He created 6 of them." she said. "Harry, Ron and I destroyed them before the battle at Hogwarts." She paused and looked up at him considering. "Actually we destroyed 4. Crabbe and Goyle destroyed one without knowing about it in the room of requirement. The last we are certain was destroyed was Nagini, which Neville killed.

"How!? That book says they can only be destroyed with fiendfyre or some other disastrous substance…Oh, right room of requirement." Draco turned from her, his shoulders stiffening for a moment. She heard a soft exhale, and then "Crabbe was an idiot." It was a few moments until Draco turned to face her again.

"But then, how did Longbottom destroy the one in Nagini?"

"Harry inadvertently imbued the goblin metal of the sword with basilisk venom in the Chamber of Secrets, so when Neville used the sword to kill Nagini, the horcrux was destroyed as well." She replied calmly.

"Our childhoods were a mess." Draco muttered in consternation, more to himself than to her, and Hermione returned to her perusal with an ironic smile.

"It certainly wasn't uneventful or idyllic, unless you count the castle and the whole magic thing." She said a bit tartly. "But the muggles have a saying. That what does not kill you makes you stronger."

Draco stilled abruptly, and then rose, walked briskly across to the tomb, covering the text with his hand.

"Look at me Grang…Hermione. Is. He. Dead.?" He stated slowly and succinctly.

"Probably?" she answered weakly.

"Probably is not good enough!" Draco nearly yelled, spinning away from her and beginning to pace. "You are a barrister – I can't believe that's good enough!" he snapped.

"That's exactly why we need the book!" she explained, losing her patience. "I have to prove it, I have to be sure. I can't just leave it to fate or chance or what have you. I have to know the truth, that it's over and we are done." Her eyes began to shimmer with unshed tears. "I can't move on until I know."

"Alright, Hermione, Barrister to Barrister, explain to me, from the beginning, what happened, how the Golden Trio cannot be sure that Voldemort is dead, and what you needed to know to put an end to it."

It was later, much later that night, that Draco sat alone again in the study, a glass of port wine forgotten in hand, staring at the fire. The ring, the diary, the cup, the locket, the diadem, and the snake. That's six, he thought idly. The accidental seventh, Harry Potter, either destroyed when he died… or not. Which would mean the golden boy could turn dark. Draco nearly snorted. Not bloody likely!

They had argued this point, and it all came down to Gra… Hermione's nightmares. Potter had been possessed once. He could be possessed again. If that bit of soul wasn't gone, then what?

More troubling, was the soul bond he had with Hermione. If he really was opposed to such a match, then this vow of intention should be killing him, and it simply was not. Could some small part of him be interested in Granger? That was even less bloody likely than the Golden boy turning dark! His wrist twinged. Well, on some level, he must think that she would be a good… partner, at any rate, or the wrist would hurt constantly… and he sighed as the twinge rapidly disappeared. Brilliant, he thought to himself sarcastically, he had a bonding mark that acted as some kind of introspection meter.

He slugged down the expensive port heedless of its quality or expense, just wanting the bracing effects of the alcohol.

Merlin's beard. He had always resented the golden trio. But hearing what they did, what they gave up to bring the dark lord down was nearly incomprehensible. Potter had walked right into death, not knowing that there was a second chance waiting for him. He was a bloody idiot...

And then there was Gra…. Hermione. He remember just the few hours ago, after listening, without interrupting to the hours long monologue on the horcruxes, his single unanswered question.

"_And what then? What if we find he is horrcurx, and his first untimely demise did not kill off that piece of the Dark Lord's soul? What will you do then, Hermione? Murder him? You said that he was a brother, even more than a brother. You really think you could do that?"_

He winced a little at the memory. He had been in full 'barrister mode' – unrelenting, cold, cutting, but Hermione had remained impressively unmoved and steadfast, perhaps in her own 'barrister mode' he thought speculatively. Hermione's response had truly shaken him, though.

"_Yes. If it comes to that, then yes..." She had replied, eyes bright with unshed tears, but voice strong, unyielding._

"_How?" he and nearly spluttered._

"_How? She tapped the book. "However it takes, whichever way is least painful."_

"_No. That's not what I'm asking. How can you do that, contemplate murder, and to someone you supposedly love?" he'd sneered._

"_I love him enough not to let him become something like that. I love him enough to give that to him, to prevent him from becoming something he would never want, that he would be revolted by and despise. Harry wouldn't want to live if that happened to him. I don't think I'll have to, though, not really. If he is one, that is… I trust Harry. I think he'll…" finally, unable to continue, she had stood up and turned from him pacing away toward the fire, seemingly to give her self some space to regain her composure_.

He'd ordered tea.

Merlin's balls. No, Potter's balls, because he had to have bullocks the size of boulders to agree to off himself twice. Draco ran through an occulmency exercise to stop his spiraling thought as he abruptly made his way to his personal chambers to get some sleep.

He'd always thought he'd hated the trio… but after all he'd heard tonight, he was… he wasn't sure what he was, but he wasn't going to think on it any more tonight. He made his way to his bedchamber to get some rest.

Hermione was completely and utterly spent. A long hot bath, a cuppa, a book and bed… that's all she wanted. She couldn't believe all that she had told Draco. She'd known that getting his help would mean spilling some secrets, but the sheer number of secrets that she had between her best friend and her boyfriend… Merlin! She felt so conflicted – sure, she had to tell Draco those things, to make him understand the seriousness of their task, the trials they must face, but she never broke her word like that, and shared so much with someone she knew the boys would never approve of. She was going mental, barking mad, surely. She pushed those thoughts aside as she went to enter her flat, and felt the tingling of familiar magic wash over her skins. Wards, she recognized almost instantly - proximity wards, to be exact, and not hers. So someone had wanted to know when she got home, hmmm? Well, it didn't take much to figure out it was her nosey boyfriend, again! Men!

She was half way to fuming by the time she got into her apartment, but then three loud pops when off, in succession, and on her breakfast bar there appeared a vase with a dozen red roses, a box of chocolates, and a scroll, and "I'm Sorry Hermione" glittered over the trio in a small display of magical fireworks. Her irritation at having her flat monitored lessened slightly, as she made her way over to the scroll.

'_Mione,_

_I've been a prat. I'm not sure how, but just about everyone said I have, so I'm sorry. I'll take you to a real restaurant when I get off shift Tuesday. Please? I'll meet you at your office._

_Ron._

Hermione sighed. It was a nice gesture, even if the boy was completely missing the point. She wasn't so sure why it bothered her that he monitored her flat… she used to think that such things just showed her how much he loved her, that he cared. Now, it just seemed like he was taking her for granted, that he could do whatever he wanted with her privacy, her time. He treated her like a personal possession. When had she let it get like this? Had she really just not been paying attention? Well, she'd try to explain it to him again. He was making an effort, so maybe so should she. She jotted down the date on her calendar… as well as the Wednesday appointment with Draco to discuss their research and strategize on next steps. She felt vaguely puzzled that she wasn't looking forward either of them, and realized she couldn't quite discern with of those options was less appealing. She'd just have to wait and see.

Ron, Hermione noted Tuesday afternoon, had gotten smart enough to give her some space. Other than the flowers and the chocolates, she hadn't seen so much as a glimpse of him. Harry had sent her a note, saying their usual brunch was off due to he and Ron pulling a double shift, but nothing from Ron. Well, she wanted to be extremely caught up at work so she could focus on the project with Draco. She huffed a bit, as she realized that Ron hadn't set a time, just hat he'd pick her up from the office. Did that mean quitting time, say, 5, or when dinner happened, knowing she often worked late, say 7? She couldn't be sure. She hoped she was dressed well enough, too, since she couldn't very well go home and change, and her transfiguration skills ere up to clothing while it was on her body.

When 7:30 came and went, Hermione was staring to get irritated. It was 7:48 when the tall, lanky auror made his way into her office, again without knocking, Hermione noted with some irritation. She pursed her lips, but decided not to say anything. He was making an effort, she reminded herself firmly.

"Hi. Ready?" he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation as he looked deftly around. He looked sharp in a dark blue button down shirt that had an even dark blue vertical stripe to is, dark wash muggle jeans, and black shoes… Harry's sense for muggle clothing had rubbed off on Ron with Harry choosing most of their undercover clothing. The blue made his skin look less pale, more of a warm creamy bespeckled apricot, and his hair looked blaze red. She sighed; these were the roguish good looks that first attracted her.

"I'll just be a moment, I need to put this away." She said, as she started to gather up her papers.

"Can't you just leave it? I told you were going out tonight, and our reservation is in 10 minutes." He said distractedly.

"Well, if you told me our reservation time, or what time you'd be showing up, I'd have this put away already, wouldn't I? she said sharply, but then she took a long breath. She was NOT going to be irritated, she was going to try and enjoy the time with her boyfriend!

"Oh. Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Wasn't sure when I asked you out where we'd be going, and dinn't make the reservation 'til today." He said sheepishly, but finally crossed over to her and gave her a hug and quick kiss.

They made their way quickly out of the Ministry, through the Leaky, and over to the muggle side of the entryway. They walked in companionable silence for a few blocks, and Ron preceded her into a mall Italian trattoria. She sighed. Yes, it was a sit down restaurant, but… trattoria's were traditionally family style seating with shared tables. Hardly an intimate environment. It was a 'seat yourself' and Ron grabbed a bench at one of the very long tables.

"Harry 'n me grabbed some grub here a couple of month's back. The food is good." He explained as she stepped over her own bench and settled in, which was only slightly awkward in the shirt dress and sandals she was wearing, one of her few good work to evening outfits. She bit back a sigh; after all, he was trying and she gave him a small smile. "I'm sure the food is good, if you remember it. You look nice tonight, Ronald."

She watched as a gentle blush tinged his cheeks and a waiter brought over menus. "So, what you do this weekend." He said, but by the sudden tensing of his body language, she knew there was more to this question than that.

"I did quite a bit of research, mostly." She said.

"But not at the Ministry or at home?" he said, suddenly looking at the menu when she shot him a sharp look.

"No Ron. You might recall that there are these strange places called 'libraries'", she said slowly. She felt bad for the small lie, but she had been in a library, hadn't she? She was home clear, just so long as he didn't ask her which library.

"Oh, well, that's alright, then. Say, it's not like you to use magic to break the rules, staying in the library after it closes 'n all." He said with a careless shrug.

"Why do you think I did that?" she asked distractedly, barely glancing up from her menu.

"Well you got home ages after the London public libraries closed…." He said, not quite making eye contact.

The man didn't posses a subtle bone in his body, she thought wryly. Thank Merlin he was partners with Harry, or they never get any information out of their informants. However, she didn't want him questioning her too closely, and was finding it hard not to be mad that her boyfriend went and researched the closing times of the libraries to try and figure out where she had been. It made her feel… trapped, in some unidentifiable way.

"Ron, you do know that university libraries are open 24 hours, right? And on the weekends, there area almost no students studying?" she said, giving him her best bemused look.

"Oh, yeah, forgot about those. You do go to those every now and then." She watched as relief swept over his features, and felt only a little bad. What she had done had been a breach of trust, although, not as much as Ron would think. She was, after all doing whatever it took to make sure their world was safe. Then why did she still feel so guilty?

It was a nice dinner, she thought, and the other couples at their table had chatted amicably with them, and Ron had made too many non-muggle gaffs. It was quite late for a weeknight, almost 10:30, when they finally left to make their way home.

Much to her surprise, though, Ron didn't head toward the Diagon Alley entrance at the Leaky Cauldron, but rather toward a small sign that indicated their was a pub just below street level.

"Come on, Hermione, the night's young, and we can have a nightcap here." He said, giving her a mischievous smile.

"Ron, it's late and we have already had a lovely dinner. We both have to work in the morning." She said, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend's antics.

"That's what pepper-ups and sobriety potions are for Hermione, or even a sick day. Come on, I think you'll enjoy this. These blokes play muggle trivia starting at 11. They bet on the outcomes…"

Hermione leveled a glare at him. "We should make sure we get home and well rested so we can do out best at work. And you are just dragging me here so you can win some bets. Let's go home, Ron." She answered firmly.

"Oh, so was there something you wanted to do there?" he asked, trying to be coy. But again, Mr. Subtle failed miserably as he waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"Yes. Sleep. And get ready for work, Ronald." She said, at the edge of her patience.

"Oh, come off it. I took you to a real restaurant, like you wanted, and I spent a bloody fortune on it too. We could have gone to a pub for food just as good for half that, and no beer there either, just wine. Not to mention the money I spent on the flowers and chocolates, and bribing the bros on the fireworks... I can make some of those galleons back. You owe me, since I compromised and did what you wanted to do." He said, as if reminding her of his of arching gallantry would sway her.

And that's just it, was' it? If she did something he wanted, well, that was taken for granted, because it made him happy. But if he did something she wanted, well then it was a 'sacrifice'. Why was that? When this changed? Had it always been that way, and she never saw it. She watched as Ron's face turned red with anger, and as soon as she was sure he would stomp of fin a huff, she replied.

"Fine Ron. Just this once, because you have been so nice. But not because I owe you anything." She said. He shrugged one shoulder and preceded her down o the pub. Would it hurt if he just once held the door for her? She sighed. How come it seemed easier to go to the pub and participate in some dub trivia game when she had zero desire to do so, then to tell her boyfriend that he was a lout? Was it her? Was she expecting too much? She shook her head, and made her way through the crowded tables.


End file.
